Arkhangelsk
by blackeyedgurl
Summary: Historical Fic, Darla, Angelus, Drusilla and Spike in the months before Angelus' souling, an alterior motive behind the gypsy's curse, vampire mythos and history
1. Maruscia

**Disclaimers: **Angelus, Darla, Drusilla, Spike, and the Master aren't my characters. I'm not the brilliant Joss Whedon, and if I were I wouldn't have to write fanfic. These characters belong to him, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Productions, Fox Entertainment, and all those people in high places who make oodles and oodles of money. Unlike me, who is in no way finacially benefitting from this work, its just for entertainment purposes. Any characters not of the Jossverse are mine, take them and you shall know my wrath, or maybe you could just ask to borrow them.

Please review, reviews keep me writing, so no review, no new chapters, if cookie bribery is neccessary, I will resort to it. Feel free to reproduce this story, enter it in contests, add it to your fan fiction database of joy, whatever, just ask me first I'm real acommodating like that. 

Okay this is historical fic, and I'm trying my best to keep it all in era and stuff, but please don't flame me out over the details, it's not like this is my job. If on the other hand I mess up the BtVS mythos then by all means flame away. This story has traditional Dru/Spike and Darla/Angelus pairings, it also refrences Angelus/Dru and both gentlemen possibly having their way with another lady of darkness, apparently Angleus and Spike are big man-whores. This story will have some risque sex scenes (come on like Dru and Spike were all cuddles and puppies), some language may be a bit on the adult, in other words if you are easily offended, under 16, or have a heart condition, you may not want to read this. Don't say you haven't been warned. And to those of you who just rubbed your hands together and Muahahahed like the evil dork villians over the thought of nudity, harsh language, violence and sex, I salute you! 'nuff said, enjoy.

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**Ekaterinburg, Russia, November 1897**  
  
Winter came quickly and harshly to this area. They had come here because they had nowhere better to be. She was there, they had sought her out, looking to form an alliance, rekindle the bond between the Aurelians and Ivanoffs. A bond severed too long ago for most members of either clan to remember what caused the rift in the first place.  
  
Darla, Angelus, Drusilla and Spike were in a sense defying their own lineage by seeing her. The Master was half the world away in Virginia, so he would never find out that his pride and joy were betraying him. They had no choice. The Ivanoffs were wiping out their newest children. Every night 4 would rise, by sunrise 3 would be dead, the last usually driven to suicide by sunlight. They couldn't stand much more of this. It had been the same since they left England, in Warsaw, Vienna, Munich, Prague, Kiev, Budapest, the list went on and on, all the same events, all the same destruction. Europe wasn't their territory anymore, but they would still put up a hell of a fight to reclaim it. They knew the only way to take back the power was to find the leader of the Ivanoffs, Maruscia.   
  
Maruscia was called the 'mother of all vampires.' It was not known if this was the truth, but there was a lack of evidence to the contrary. She had outlived millions of her kind. In the beginning, there was only one clan of vampires, her clan, what later became known as the Ivanoffs, a name she took after the incident. All except Spike had dealt with her before. He had only heard of her. Still, the stories were enough for him to know that she was not to be messed with, but was to be reveared. The best they could deduce she became somewhere near 3000 years ago. She had turned the Master near 1000 years ago; at that time he was much better looking than he was at the present. Spike could only imagine what a 3000 year old vampire would look like if that's what a 1000 years did.

They had been forced out of Moscow, not only by the Ivaoffs, but because Drusilla had rampaged the foundling hospital. Orphanages were her favorites, and she liked to steal the few dollies she could find in them. This time though, she had almost been caught. It was too close a call according to Darla and Angelus, they needed to find protection. They knew Maruscia could offer that, in addition she was the head of the Ivanoffs and with her they could offer treaty or maybe kill her.  
  
They trudged through the streets of Ekaterinburg. It was the favorite town of many of the Tsarinas, and one of the few tolerable places in Russia for the winter. Maruscia rarely left this area, she loved her Eastern Europe, and saw no reason to leave. She had connections to the royal family, and although revolution was on the lips of many, she knew it was a while off, as she had seen so many. In the mean time she had settled in her estate house and lived the life of a high society woman. She claimed to be a widower who had fallen into a fortune when her husband died in a terrible accident in Siberia. Humans were stupid, they fell for everything. The four couldn't enter her city without her knowing it, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they showed up at her doorstep. She knew they were smart enough not to make attempts on her unlife, and so had no fear, she was untouchable.  
  
Darla and Angelus found the accomodations, as they usually did. The elderly couple was an easy target, once they had been missing a few days, Darla sent a note to each of the neighbors introducing them as the niece, nephew and spouses of the former inhabitants, who had since headed to the Grecian coast for the winter. It silenced all questions, they dumped the bodies the day after into the near frozen river. The bodies wouldn't show up until the thaw, months away.  
  
Spike and Drusilla were too wrapped up in themselves to care about where they spent their days. Angelus and Darla, had finally gotten used to his ridiculous new name, but they had insisted that while in Russia he dress like a proper wealthy man, or their cover could be blown. He agreed, and behaved begrudgingly. Hunting was difficult in winter here, few people were out after dark, so the only times they had acess to flesh was if they dined out, attended a party or the opera. But there were plenty of these events to keep them well in blood.  
  
Dusk had just fallen, when the doorbell rang. Darla was a princess and had turned the butler and maid so they would be well taken care of during their stay. When they were done here she would stake them, it was her way. The four of them were in the sitting room preparing for a party at some high ranking officials home when the butler announced a visitor. They told him to escort the visitor to them. A bolt of excitement went through the room, in hopes that this was like room service, dinner walking right thorugh the front door.   
  
None of them wanted to go out that evening. Drusilla had been throwing tantrums for two days, some nonsense about Miss Edith being naughty and needing punishment. She was in one of her moods. Spike hadn't wanted to go out; he wanted to stay back and play with his sweet Dru behind closed doors. Angelus had joked to Darla that the only one who seemed to be getting punished was Spike, and that if it got any louder he would have some punishing to do himself. Darla and Angelus had also wanted an evening in, giving them time to ransack the wardrobes and screw in every room, it was a ritual of theirs. Made the place feel like home.  
  
They were chatting and drinking vodka when the guest entered the room. They hadn't noticed.  
  
"Well, if it isn't the magnificent four of Aurelius. Tell me, how is my dear Aurelius, and how does he feel about you being here?"  
  
It was Maruscia, Darla recognized the voice before setting eyes on her. They all turned to look at her. She was standing there, dressed from head to toe in blood red velvet, a corset squeezing her perfect body closer to perfection. her breasts near popping out of the top of her dress, her waist so small it seemed she could tip over. She wore a high necked cape made of mink, as well as leather gloves. Mink cuffs also adorned her dress and her hair was piled on top of her head with a few plumes held in place with rhinestone clips. She was ravishingly gorgeous, and the height of European fashion. Both Spike and Angelus gasped when they saw her. Darla got up to greet her.  
  
"Maruscia, what a pleasure. We were going to call on you, but have been so busy with all the parties we seem to have lost track of ourselves." Darla was patronizing her. "Please come in and join us. We wanted to see you. Please pardon the house, the prior residents were a bit aged and their tastes seem to stray as of recent." Darla pulled out a chair so she could join them in front of the large fireplace they had gathered in front of. Darla was always the hostess, the queen bee, the head of the household, no matter what Angelus said to the contrary.  
  
Spike turned to Angelus, "Bloody hell, that's _her_? I thought after 3,000..."  
  
"That after 3,000 years I would start to look like your dear Master?" Maruscia interrupted him. "See thats what is so wonderful about being me, I will never age. I will never change, I have taken certain measures to ensure this. Once a month I bath in virgins blood."  
  
"That works?" Spike asked in disbelief.  
  
"No, but it makes me feel young, and they say aging is all in the mind. Truth be told, I am more purely vampire than any other, the purer your line the less you age. Aurelius became tainted at some point before his pretty little Darla was sired. Probably accidentally ate a vengeance demon, they really shouldn't parade around looking like humans. You should see Kakistos, 200 years old and he has cloven hooves. I blame it on his mother, but not everyone can choose so perfect a lineage as my Aurelius." Maruscia spoke as she traced Spike's cheekbones with one of her long fingernails.   
  
Spike was completely enthralled, Drusilla started hitting him to get back his attention.  
  
"I see you've kept the seer with you Angelus, has she been as useful as you had hoped?"  
  
"Of course she has." Angelus rose and kissed her hand, and nodded at her.  
  
"Dollies inside dollies, going on forever. Viscera and glass eyes, boxes full of trouble, but the stars are not happy, they shall cry when we open it." Drusilla started to ramble, getting up and twirling around the room. "She makes the stars weep for their mummy, for they shall dance no more." Drusilla touched Maruscia's arm and began to laugh maniacly, then her face changed emotions on a beat "Daddy, I do not like the dollies to be trapped, Miss Edith wants her tea party but her friends are stuck inside each other, make them stop!" Spike had gotten up and grabbed her.  
  
"Dru! Dru! We have company, Miss Edith and her little friends and their sodding tea can wait. Now sit down and be a good girl."  
  
"Daddy will punish us so, we are up far past our bed time and sleep will escape us." Drusilla was shaking her head back and forth like a contemptuous child. "I will see that grandmother has her supper and then go to bed, for my sleep is what keeps the stars from falling down one by one into my tea."  
  
"Shut up Drusilla, right this instant! Spike take her to her room, she will not stop this blather, and we have business to take care of here. You can stay with her, we don't need you here." Darla was mad, and embarassed.  
  
"Well, isn't that fine and dandy? I'm not a pawn, you can't bloody well tell me what to do." Spike was putting on airs, he did not want to seem foolish in front of Maruscia.  
  
Drusilla leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Miss Edith wants to bounce on the bed and roll in front of the fire, naughty little boys are what she wants to play with tonight..." She pulled back and gave him the look.  
  
"Right, then, I will take Drusilla, to bed. Make sure none of the baddies get her. I better get her off then, to bed you know, right. It was a pleasure meeting you Maruscia, I hope this will not be our last meeting." Spike knew when to turn on the charm, he took her hand in his and kissed it while rubbing his thumb into her palm.  
  
"Yes, I am sure it will not be, for pretty faces should always keep each other company." She smiled at him, for a moment he felt the world fall away.  
  
Drusilla and Spike headed for the staircase to go up to their room. Maruscia grabbed Dru's arm, and pulled her to her, pressing Dru's back into her chest, wrapping an arm across her neck, and whispering into her ear, "Sssstars fall when I wish them to, all your sleeping will save nothing. Souls are gifts from mummies, but lashings are all the father brings." She whirled Dru around to stare her straight in the eye, Drusilla screamed and passed out. Spike picked her up and carried her up the stairs.


	2. Undead Bodies

**The Balkans 3120 Years Before Present Era**

It was said that Maruscia had come into being through a demonic conception. Maruscia was known for being the most beautiful woman in 6 villages. She had long black hair that waved like the crops in the fields, her skin was dewey and fair, and did not darken in the sun. Her eyes were the most striking, they were massive orbs of violet, with long black lashes making her gaze even more seductive than was intentional. She married late, at 20, most girls were mothers by 15, and she did not become pregnant immediately. She was the wife of a farmer, who took good care of her and loved her deeply. Her apparent inability to bear children caused suspicion in the village, some accusing her of being possessed by evil spirits. She slept most of the day, and went walking at night, her husband knew this, but was too tired to make issue out of it. He knew she did her fair share of work, and had few complaints. One night she met a man of extraordinary beauty, she had seen him in a dream before the encounter. She followed him into a wooded lot, they made love, he thanked her, told her she would make a beautiful mother, and disappeared. She never saw the man again, but 9 months later she was as big as a house and ready to pop.  
  
The midwife had come quickly when he announced his wife was in labor. Rolf had been wealthy enough to afford the midwife, he was concerned that this may be his only child, and he had to guarantee that it would survive. Ceremonies were performed outside their house, sacrifices were made, to satiate the gods who were so quick to strike down children. The home had been cleansed, the skin of the lamb hung over the door to stop the demons from entering the house and destroying her birth. Everything had been done as it had been done for generations in his village. Nothing was out of place.  
  
Hours had come and gone, he finally hear the cry of not one, but two children. The midwife appeared at the door, he had a son and a daughter. Rolf was turning to share the good news with the neighbors, when the midwife grabbed his arm. Maruscia was dead. The twins had taken all she had, she had bled to death. The midwife offered a nurse maid who could come to service the children for him, as well as help him raise them until a replacement wife could be found. The woman's child had died not a week before and she was still able to nurse them. He was shocked, the joy that two children had given him was now overshadowed by the loss of Maruscia.  
  
He went into the room where the children screamed for their mother. She was laying on the floor, covered in blood, her eyes still open, her legs still spred. He went over and closed them, and her eyes, then covered the body. Rolf didn't believe this was possible. He then went to the children, the girl looked like Maruscia, but the boy's skin was far too dark, his eyes were so dark they looked black. He didn't care, he was just happy to have them, to have some token of her life.  
  
The midwife left, he sent her away, and told her to have the nurse maid stop by the next day. Before she left, the midwife gave him a warning. Maruscia's death was strange, unnatural, she had seen many women die in labor, but this had been different. Maruscia had been delerious screaming about how she was to make a fine mother, that he had told her she would make a fine mother, that he had come to her in a dream. The midwife was concerned that the children were cursed, as they had not cried until their mother died. She was very suspicious of all of it, and told him to have the house cleansed again as well as the children as soon as possible.   
  
He couldn't bear to do these things, not yet, not at this moment. He had loved her deeply, he couldn't let go or curse her body because of some ramblings upon her death. He had moved the body onto a table, and had cleaned the floor of her blood. He wiped the blood off of her legs, redressed her body, combed through her hair, and put together her things for the burial, her hair comb, a bowl, a string of seeds and shells she had worn as a necklace. These things had meant something to her. He also put in one of the leather straps he often wrapped around his hands to work in the fields, she needed to have a piece of him with her.  
  
The children didn't make a noise the entire night. He woke the following day to the sounds of them screaming. The nurse maid had brought the local shaman, for she refused to nurse the children without them being cleansed. As Rolf walked into the room, the nursemaid and shaman were holding the children over their mother's corpse, the children were bleeding onto their mother, into her mouth, each of her hands, and the region from which these two creatures had been born.  
  
"From the sacrifice of the blood of the mother, we give back to her spirit the blood of those she sacrificed for. Let her spirit rest, never seeking this place again, never entering this home or any other without permission, let this blood take her soul from this body." The nurse maid held both children as the shaman picked up their dead mothers hands and touched their foreheads with their own blood from her hands. "May the gift of life be granted and the children cleansed, the darkness of death over them cleared by reclaiming their blood. Let all be free, let all rest, the spirits satisfied, the gods approving of this offering! The shaman held his hands in the air, took Maruscia's hands, cut open the palms, and folded her hands together. "Let the blood they share free her, and please the gods, let the evil of this house be gone!" He then held up two sticks which had been tied together creating a cross of sorts, he touched her head and her heart and the soles of her feet with it. "May you never make passage through the crossroads, may your filthy spirit hide in shame from the place where gods and man meet!"  
  
Lightning cracked outside the door and the boom of thunder quickly followed. The air crackled with life. The shaman, looked at Rolf, he could see the fear in his eyes. There was something more to Maruscia's passing than he was being told. The nurse maid took the children to the next room, and the shaman and he picked up Maruscia's body, her bowl of mementos of this world on her stomach, and then carried the body to the grave dug just outside of the village. This was where all were buried. The men had heard of her passing during the night and had dug the grave immediately. Her lifeless body was tossed in, as the rain began to pour down. As her body hit the bottom, her eyes opened. He thought her eyes had opened, but he knew his eyes could have been decieveing him. They left the body there, in the open grave, the others would come later to throw flowers into the grave, to powder the body with ochre, and to finally refill the hole.

* * *

**Ekaterinburg, Russia, November 1897**  
  
Spike had carried Dru's lifeless body up the stairs to her room. The people who once lived here must of had some sort of grandchild that visited them. Darla and Angelus knew that when they took a house, there always had to be a child's room for Drusilla. This house was no exception. Her room was pink and ivory with ribbons and lace and roses everywhere. The small child's bed was of no use to her, and so they had stripped the bed linens off to place on the floor. Dru and Spike liked sleeping on the floor, it gave them more room to thrash each other about.   
  
The room was cold. The fire in the pink granite fireplace had long burned out. Spike laid Dru's body on the sheets and restarted the fire. The temperature didn't really bother him, but Dru had a thing about being cold. He lit a cigarette off of the long match he lit to start the fire and squatted in front of the fireplace waiting for it to begin to roll. The crackling filled his ears as he heard the wood ignite. He was so absorbed he didn't realize Drusilla was awake, until she grabbed his arm.  
  
"Bloody hell!" Spike jumped. Drusilla could be as quiet as a cat when she wanted to be. He turned to see her crawling at him, naked. She licked her lips and began to mew like a kitten.  
  
"Come now my big brave night, and pet the kitty." Drusilla was devilishly gorgeous when lit with fire light. Spike threw his cigarette in the fireplace.  
  
"Well now, how do I know if its a good pussy or a bad one?"  
  
Dru smiled and scampered away. "You'll have to find me to find out."  
  
Spike stood up, and began undressing as he walked about the room, "Here pus, pus, pus, pus..." He was calling a cat alright, a cat of a whole other breed.  
  
He could hear the laughter coming from downstairs, he closed the door, and continued looking for his kitty.


	3. Children of the Night

**The Balkans, 3120 years before present**  
  
When she fell into the pit it hurt. Her eyes open, and she watched as Rolf and the town shaman departed. Rolf wiping a lone tear from his face. She didn't understand why they had dropped her in the pit, couldn't they see she was awake?   
  
The water was rushing in, and it filled her mouth and nostrils, she sat up to spit the dirty filth from her. She was covered in runny mud and clay. Maruscia took her hands and hoisted herself out of her grave. She only realized it was her grave when she crawled out. Shocked she stumbled into the woods to gather her thoughts.  
  
Later she heard the screams that wolves had attacked and stolen her body. Her head throbbed, she could hear every raindrop hit, every move the leaves made, the whistling of a wet piece of grass in the wind. She thought it was near dark but her vision remained the same, as if it were broad daylight. The smells were what really got her. On her hands she could smell the blood of her children. She needed to find them, to see what was to become of them.  
  
The door to the house was wide open, and she could hear the infants screaming inside. When she tried to go through the door it was as if a large invisible wall had been placed between the outside world and the insides of the house. She walked around the side to look into the window. Rolf was screaming at a small woman about how if the children didn't eat they would die, and how that couldn't happen. The woman was near to crying stating that since the body had left the house the children had been silent, and unwilling to eat. That only in the last few minutes had they begun to shriek. Rolf raised a hand to her, and the woman scampered to the floor and out the door. Rolf looked straight at the window and saw her standing there.  
  
He ran out of the house, and grabbed her, taking her in his arms and walking her back to the house. At the door she stopped, unable to cross the threshold, until he told her to come in. What happened next was such a flash that she could barely recall it even moments after it happened. But when she left the house, she had both children in a basket, all of her things, and Rolf laid on the entry way floor with his throat ripped out.  
  
Her and the children hid in the woods, with both of them growing it seemed right before her eyes. She often found herself and the children in a field or a home with the bodies of the inhabitants laying about, throats ripped out, but without blood to be seen. She would then flee with the children to another town. She taught them to sleep in the day and move in the night, telling them it was safer for cover and travel when in reality something inside her told her sunlight was not her friend. Yet she did not know what she was, or what the children were, as within a years time they had grown to be as old as she. They seemed to plateau there. Not knowing what Rolf was calling them, she named them: Ekaterina and Ivanoff.

* * *

**Ekaterinburg, Russia, November 1897**

"And then he says, 'it's not William anymore, call me Spike!'" Darla was drunk and this was her favorite story to pass onto guests when drunk. She even had mastered Spike's cadence and annunciation. She fell over laughing, spilling the remains of her vodka in Angelus' lap.  
  
"Darla, dear, I think you've had quite enough. Come now, sit up." Angelus sat her back up, and leaned her against the cushions of the setee. "I must appologize for her, it's been a rough couple of years, and she's been drinking heavily recently."  
  
"Well, it's been a rough couple of years no thanks to me, is what you mean isn't is Angelus?" Maruscia smirked at him, and took another sip of her vodka. She had drank near to a bottle and showed no signs of inebriation. Angelus had stopped when his head got heavy, so as to not allow Maruscia an opportunity to stake them right then and there. "Do you fear me?"  
  
"Do I what? Fear you? I fear nothing." Angelus rebuked.  
  
"Not even daylight, or crosses, or stakes through the heart? What about beheadings? Do you fear those things?"  
  
"I do not fear them, I avoid them."  
  
"Oh, and I suppose there's a difference."  
  
Darla had passed out, and was wavering back and forth. "Excuse me, let me get her out of here."  
  
"Of course, do you need any help?" Maruscia put on the charm that had lured in so many men so many times.  
  
"No, I can carry her to bed all by myself. Why don't you just wait here, I'll only be a second."  
  
Angelus carried Darla upstairs, and into their room. It was across from Drusilla and Spike's. He could hear Drusilla mewing and purring and Spike calling out for her. He frowned, that was once his game, a bit o' the old cat and mouse with Drusilla, but since Spike came about there was no more playing with Drusilla. Darla welcomed it, but Angelus missed her sexual insanity.   
  
He undressed Darla and put her into bed, being sure the draperies were shut, so he wouldn't arrive later to a big pile of ashes. He kissed her on the forehead, she murmmured, and rolled onto her side. He headed back downstairs.   
  
Maruscia was walking around the house. She noted all of the broken mirrors. Angelus told her about Dru's dislike of the things, and her abandonless joy at shattering them. She noted that there were objects missing from the walls. He told her how they sold them for money for proper winter frocks and capes for the girls, as well as proper hats and coats for themselves. She was just biding her time, attempting to peek into the lives of the Aurelians, well the most important 4 Aurelians outside Aurelius himself.   
  
They made small talk about the region, and where to find a good meal. Who's aquaintences they should make, if there were any vampire barbers or seamstresses in town. The general sort of talk that people new to an area make with a native. Dawn was approaching, and Maruscia had to get back to her estate. She passed him a calling card with the address on it, and a date. It was the night she was throwing a large party, and she wanted them to join her. Angelus gathered her things and walked her to the door.  
  
"It has been a pleasure meeting you once again." Angelus again took her hand and kissed it.  
  
"I am sure this time it was far more pleasurable as I was not directing the seige and murder of you and your friends." She smiled at him.  
  
"Well, you're not wrong."   
  
Maruscia was halfway down the stairs to her carriage when Angelus called down to her: "I do not fear you, and I never will." The look on his face was stern and serious, he meant every word he said.  
  
"Oh my sweet, angels have nothing to fear but the devil itself." He slammed the door shut. When it impacted with the door frame he heard Drusilla squeal upstairs. He went back into the sitting room, took the decanter of vodka, and finished it off.   
  
Half way up the stairs the alcohol hit him, and he had to grip tightly to the railing to make it up. By the time he reached their room, he was near to unconscious, passing out fully clothed on the bed. Drusilla and Spike across the hall still playing their wicked little games.


	4. Salvation By Darkness

**Authors Note:** Sorry this has been so long in the making. Fact is, cos only had 2 people review, I only think 2 people have read this and like it enough for me to keep it up. If I don't end up with more reviews this story will have a stake put in it, and it will meet its own dusty demise. So if you are reading this, and haven't reviewed, do it, or the story gets it. I love my readers, more than Buffy loves cheese and ice skating, so even if it's only the two of you, i will put up a few more chapters cos I'm good like that. Thanks for the support and all that rot...

* * *

**Vladimir, Kievan Rus, 1169**  
  
She came into their lives at the coronation.   
  
His turning was an accident. He had a brother of similar likeness, Crown Prince Andriov of Suzdal who in 1169 took the city of Kiev and relocated the seat of regional power to his hometown Vladimir on the Volga River. She had meant to turn Andriov, having high powered men turned was useful to her, if not a fun game, but she accidentally sired the younger, drunker Prince Yaroslav. A mistake she would learn to regret.  
  
Yaroslav was uncontrollable. Before she turned him, he was nothing more than a drunken lout, rauciously flailing through his short life expectancy. She hadn't wanted to stake him from hour one, which was strange for her. She enjoyed using him as a pawn for his brother which was still, in its own way, quite useful. She couldn't have thought he would love it as well.  
  
Andriov had recently relocated his capital, and had planned a grand gala for the most important people around. There was food and spirits and dancing. He was also seeking a wife. At 23 he was getting a bit too old to be a bachelor. Yaroslav was 20, but was not expected to do anything with his life. He needed not a wife or children, but Andriov needed heirs, he knew it. Men from around Kievan Rus had sent their daughters to Vladimir in hopes the new king would take one of them as his bride. Daughters were toss aways anyways, good for nothing but marrying off for a high dowery. None of these girls, although young and beautiful, had caught his eye. They were average at best. That was until he saw her. She had entered the party with her long black hair flowing behind her, her skin as fair as the clouds, her entire being free of the hardship and turmoil which had decorated the faces of the other girls. He was smitten.   
  
Yaroslav and Andriov looked almost as twins. Both were well built, with their heads covered in honey blonde hair, quite unusual in their region. The only real difference between them was one was usually intoxicated, and the other was not. Andriov had even used his brother as bait once to lure a raiding party into a trap. Andriov was a fierce warrior who earned his throne, Yaroslav was a leech who did nothing but suck time. It was a simple mistake for her to make, having them only pointed out to her, and the woman doing so not sure which one was which. She seduced the wrong man.  
  
Andriov's heart sunk when he saw her approach Yaroslav, weaving her delicate arm through his, and walking him away from the party with a wicked smile on her face. He was tempted to send one of his warriors after them, to pull her off of him and arrested for indecency. He didn't, figuring that he was mistaken that she could have been his bride, convinced she was nothing but one of Yaroslav's whores, and he had many.  
  
She walked him into the forest around the city, and let him push her up against a tree. Men were so brutal, she had been down this road so many times that she was used to being handled like a sow headed to slaughter. He stank of spirits and sweat, his skin glossy with oil, unwashed and fairly unkempt she could hardly believe this man was king. In the middle of their encounter she put her offer on the table.   
  
"I can give you eternity, forever and a day. You could rule for all time and not just an age." It was the same line she had fed the leader of the Goths and the Huns, and several other conquering leaders. In earlier days it had been the Greeks and the Romans. "All you have to do is say yes to me right now, and I can give you this." They usually moaned out the yes in a moment of passion, she would then take them, turn them, rob them, and stake them.  
  
He stopped manhandling her for a moment. "Are you a witch?"  
  
She laughed at the idea. "No, would a witch hitch her skirts up so easily to a man such as yourself?"  
  
"I don't know, maybe she would."  
  
"I want your answer, I can give you everything, all I want from you is a yes."  
  
She got her answer, and ripped his throat open. She then cut her wrist open using his knife and fed his corpse. His body was found the next morning by children looking for berries. Andriov had him placed on a funeral pyre, as they had done for both mother and father before him. It would not be until the following day the ceremonies would take place. That didn't matter, he rose at dusk, and disappeared.  
  
That was how she controlled Andriov, together her and Yaroslav drove him mad, thinking his dead brother was somehow haunting him. Extorting money and gems and anything they could want out of him to quell the spirit of Yaroslav. Maruscia had found a partner equal in cruelty and creativity as herself, what began as a mistake, turned into a partnership. She had found it easier to travel alone, less cumbersome, and far easier to feast off of the humans and escape as an individual. She had taken lovers and partners before, but they barely lasted a few weeks. Yaroslav lasted decades. She could not tolerate his name though, and renamed him Aurelius, the name of a Roman she once ate, his name meant 'the golden one' which fit perfectly with her golden boy.

* * *

**Ekaterinburg, November 1897**

Spike was cold. This was becoming a trend for him. He wasn't sure what he had done, if he had done anything at all, to put himself in this awkward position. Angelus had tied him up in the cellar, taken his shirt, and then whipped him repeatedly. The blood on his chest was frozen, he imagined the blood on his back had met the same fate. It was a good thing vampires couldn't freeze to death, because if ever there was a time for it, it was now. Afterwards Angelus left, Spike heard him take the girls out of the house, most likely shopping. Russia was good for one thing, gloom. Because of the cold ad the snow they could venture out most days, they being everyone but Spike.

Angelus had recently taken to punishment without merit. He being Spike's Sire, he had permission to do what he damn near pleased with the boy, a fledgling as he was. The fun of beating Drusilla had long since lost its joy, if only because she enjoyed it too much. Angelus needed someone to take his frustrations and disappointments on. Who else was he to practice his torture techniques on? Every year technology moved forward, and every year Angelus had new things to incorporate into his game, he called it a game. Spike called it hell. Had Drusilla mentioned this before her offer, William most likely wouldn't have taken her up on it. If only Angelus hadn't stormed into that stable and ripped him from her breast, deciding it was he who would control both as children, as toys. 

Things weren't as bad at first. Angelus was thrilled to have another man to go out whoring and drinking with. Darla had lost her taste for whores, and Drusilla had too much of a tendancy to play with her food. In William he had seen someone he could carouse with, someone to party with. But this soon wasn't enough, and the boy had demanded time with Drusilla, who for all intents and purpouses was for Angelus' pleasure only. Darla was sick of it, and so she encouraged the boy to pursue Drusilla, as well as inviting him into her bed more than once. That too had enraged Angelus, and soon William was no longer his pal, but his play thing. 

At first William was punished or taunted for offences he could understand. Things like leaving bodies where people would find them, or forgetting to close the drapes before sun-up. These were punishable offenses and he understood that he had a lot to learn. As William he was quite the bright student, always with high marks, taking himself as a fast learner he did just that. Learned too quickly for Angelus' tastes. He had apparently hoped the boy was as daft as Drusilla were crazy, but hopes don't always fare as well as we would like. So then he was punished for learning too fast, and later Angelus' stopped needing a reason. He soon moved onto things so depraved William was sure even the Marquis de Sade hadn't thought of them, things that would have made his poor mother turn over in her grave if she weren't dust. Things that had his former self even thought were possible would have driven him to join the clergy. Somewhere in this he stopped being William, and took on being Spike. Spike's affection for torture did not match his own, and Angelus had begun to think that if he broke the boy he could rebuild him in his own image. Angelus wanted to be god. Spike intended to fight as much as he could to prevent that.

Only once did Darla step in to his benefit. Spike was a bloody mass of flesh, stripped and cowering, Drusilla was screaming like a banshee, and Darla had enough of her screams. She demanded Angelus stop before Drusilla burst her ear drums. She hadn't cared a bit for him, only for herself, but still she saved him as he was near breaking, near giving up. If there was one thing he never wanted to offer to Angelus it was what was left of his spirit. He looked up to Angelus, but after months and years of being beaten sensless, he had stopped wanting to be him. Instead he wanted to be free, he wanted to take his dark princess away with him, abandon their keeper, become their own. This was Spike taking over, this was when things began to change. Angelus eventually gave up on Drusilla, she had been becoming more and more mad lately. Her insanity going to new highs and lows that even Angelus couldn't fathom. She receeded more and more into her own world, Spike was the only one who could still reach her. He could control her, and even inspire moments of complete lucidity, Angelus gave up on her and pawned her off on Spike. This was the moment when for once Darla and Spike could celebrate the same thing. Darla got to take back her Childe and Spike got to take his princess. 

He had nodded off reflecting on the past, and didn't hear someone join him. The rustling of skirts should have set him off, but he was so out of it he probably wrote the sound off to rats.

"So pretty, so sad. What a mess they have made." The thick Slavic accent he recognized immediately.

"Maruscia?" he whispered, barely able to lift his head, unable to open his swollen eyes. He would need at least a day and three fresh meals to heal from this round.

"He tries so hard to be like him, you know. But she didn't teach him well did she? Of course not, as much as she wants, she isn't me! Letting her Childe run about and make such a pretty, pretty mess." She walked over to him, running a finger down his chest, into a gash. He cringed, "But if he had not been so intent, we would not have you now would we? Something, a creature so beautiful, golden, I could have mistaken you for one of my own." She ran her hands up to his restraints and undid them, letting him fall upon her.

"No." Was all he could say.

"No?"

"He'll be back, he'll be even more upset." The words barely made it off of his tounge.

"Well it's a good thing that I am here then isn't it?" She let him lean against her as she took him upstairs. She dropped his body in front of the fireplace. " He will not be torturing you any more."

Spike snorted, "Sure, whatever you say, you don't live here." The blood was beginning to thaw on his body. Maruscia called over the servents telling them to clean him up, and to retrieve fresh clothes for him, as well as a meal.

"You do keep humans around here somewhere don't you?"

"No, Drusilla doesn't like it, makes her scream all night."

"Figures! I can't believe the mockery the lot of you have become." She sent the butler out to retrive one of her 'boys' from the carriage.

She sat on the couch. Spike looked up at her while he was being taken care. She was radiant, ephemeral, effulgent. His eyes got lost in the layers of black silk on her dress. She wasn't dressed fancy, nor was her outfit ordinary, it was just as if he couldn't take his eyes off of her, he felt tied to her.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because, when it all comes own to it, the lot of you are my responsibility. Aurelius has left you to your own volition for too long."

"Aurelius?"

"The Master? Mr. New World? Conquerer of the Colonies, taker of revolutionaries? Turner of whores?" The last statement was was marked by distaste.

Spike didn't understand, he hadn't been told this before. Perhaps he had, after a while all the lore had started to run together and he hadn't paid attention to any of it.

"But I thought..."

"You think too much. What did they tell you? That we were at war? That the Aurelians were a line as old as my own? I swear the propeganda that man sends down his ranks is ridiculous. Have you even met the man?"

"Once, right after I was turned, he was leaving to go back to America."

"Hideous creature he has become, he used to be so strong, so powerful, so beautiful. Now the only fear he stikes is with his face." She looked off, above the fireplace, "He is one of mine. I made him."

Spike was near speechless when the butler returned with a young man. A man not much younger than he had been, and this one was strong.

"Put him down there." She pointed next to Spike, then turned to the boy weaving back and forth as he had seen Dru do so many times, "Shhh... remember my promise, we will be together always, do not move or the spell will be broken." When the boy was enthralled she looked at Spike, "What are you waiting for? Eat."

Spike sank his fangs in, the power in this blood was incredible. "He's been dosed, he is imparted with more strength than the average human. Sometimes it is handy to keep around a witch. If only to improve your meals." She sat back, satisfied that he was eating. "Where was I? Oh yes, Aurelius. When you are as old as I am now, you will have made many, but few Childer. Still, when we make a companion they become our own, a part of us. He was mine. But as you can tell, he no longer is. I don't recall when things turned for us, but it was a while back when he first left, when he first became disfigured. I could barely stand to look at his face, but I never intended for him to leave. He abandoned me, went to the Colonies, turned himself a whore, made himself his first Childe, his mate, Darla. He never returned to me, not once. Brought her back to England, England! Can you believe that? A man of the Balkans returning to such a young place, uncivilized, abandoning his roots. He let her roam freely. I know because I have eyes everywhere. He did not take care of her, he did not nurture her as I had him. Instead he let her loose, and she made herself a mate. The biggest bastard she could find, someone who, like herself, was capable of near anything, even with a soul. She found a creature as wicked as herself. Her Angelus. He mocked his Master, he was insufferable. So much so that he returned to the colonies to get away from him. I am sure you know the rest."

Spike nodded as he threw the corpse aside. She called for the butler to dispose of it, and then motioned for Spike to join her on the sofa.

"You know what really was the last straw?" She ran her hand through his hair, "The bastard killed my son."


End file.
